


I Want You Off My Mind (And On Me Instead)

by bottomchanyeol, Puppetqueen



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Cock Warming, Frottage, Hyung Kink, Light Angst, M/M, Monetary gifts and such are also given in exchange for company and sexual favors so please be warned, PWP, This is a sugar daddy fic so blanket warning for issues regarding consent in this type of scenario, about 7 years, slight age gap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 21:34:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17211365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottomchanyeol/pseuds/bottomchanyeol, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puppetqueen/pseuds/Puppetqueen
Summary: Chanyeol is a seasoned sugar baby who gets paired up with a potential sugar daddy through an app. What he didn’t expect was for his potential sugar daddy to be Sehun, one of his high school students that he taught a couple of years ago when he worked a part-time teaching job.- This fanwork was written for round 2 of the bottom!Chanyeol fest [2018/19].





	I Want You Off My Mind (And On Me Instead)

**Author's Note:**

> This was really just an excuse for me to write PWP and include as many of my favorite bottom!yeol kinks in one very convenient fic. Unapologetic hyung kink is unapologetic. Sehun packing it heavy in the pants is also an aesthetic I refuse to let go of. Thank you for Dae, for reading the earliest versions of this entire mess. Your input was very much appreciated, not to mention needed. Thank you, Mod(s) for your patience. I wasn’t the easiest person to get in contact with, for which I apologize. Thank you, prompter, for your prompt. I’m sorry if it wasn’t everything you asked for. I did try. For everyone else, please enjoy! Loosely self beta’d, all grammar boo boos are my own.

Chanyeol is very familiar with the value of first impressions. 

 

He understands the power of a first look, the importance of the first touch — whether it be a simple handshake or something more intimate. It’s why he came prepared in fitted trousers and a silk black shirt with one too many buttons loose at the neck. He’s tailored his look to match the venue, an upscale bar in a fancy hotel located in the heart of the city. All the surfaces are shiny and gilded, the bright marble floors are seen without a skid mark or shoe print in sight. The people who come and go have that look about them; privileged, wealthy, and entitled. Chanyeol’s done his best to match this crowd and knows he’s done a good job of fitting in when no one spares him a second glance.

 

He’s ready, dressed to impress and at the top of his game but still he’s blindsided, caught unawares. 

 

“Seonsaengnim,” a tall stranger greets him as he walks up to Chanyeol’s table. “I’m Oh Sehun. Do you remember me?”

 

No, Chanyeol doesn't, not entirely, but he freezes at the title, brows furrowing in confusion. “You’re Willis?”

 

“When I want to be,” Oh Sehun shrugs, making himself comfortable on the cushions of their corner booth. Chanyeol takes in the rest of him, from his broad shoulders and small face, dark hair short on the sides but long enough in the front to fall into his eyes. They’re framed by thick brows and smooth, fair skin. Undeniably handsome, Chanyeol thinks subconsciously, and yeah, he can see it - the _chaebol_ in Oh Sehun. 

 

He’s young - almost _too_ young really - at only twenty-one years old, but whatever name he went by, his background check had cleared and he had a verified hefty bank account despite his age. It’s the first time Chanyeol’s been matched up with someone younger and he’d been excited, though now he’s not so sure.

 

“I don’t expect you to remember me,” he says with a little smile that almost seems like it doesn’t belong on his face, the slight upturn of his lips breaking the cool stoicism of his expression.

 

“I was your teacher, right?” Chanyeol asks, brows furrowing as he searches his memories for a familiar face. He conjures up flashes of a shy, gangly teenager with pale skin and horribly dyed rainbow-colored hair - a far cry from the young man in front of him dressed in a dark sweater with red and white stripes across the chest and shoulders, emphasizing their width. The sweater looks expensive, as does the gray slacks and shoes he’s paired it with, and he fills out the clothes well. His hair is now a modest shade of dark brown and the whole ensemble makes him look a little older, more mature, and nothing like the boy Chanyeol vaguely remembers. 

 

“Yes,” Sehun agrees. “But that was a very long time ago. Do you still teach?”

 

“No, I don’t,” Chanyeol replies with a shake of his head.

 

“A shame,” Sehun murmurs, “You were very good.”

 

It’s Chanyeol’s turn to shrug. “It’s not what I really wanted to do.”

 

Sehun hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t comment right away, signaling to the bartender across the room with a raise of his hand and a wiggle of his fingers. “Do you enjoy this?” he gestures at the space between them. “What you do now?”

 

Chanyeol shifts in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable with such a direct question. “What does that have to do with anything?”

 

Sehun holds his gaze for a beat of silence as his drink arrives, what looks to be a chocolate bubble tea. Chanyeol eyes it curiously, an odd drink to order at an upscale bar. 

 

“Hyung,” Sehun finally answers, head tilting slightly to the side as if testing out the word for the first time. “Can I call you Chanyeol hyung?” Chanyeol stays quiet, eyeing him warily. “All right, I’ll be honest,” he continues, “I have a lot of disposable income that I’m looking to spend and I just so happen to want to spend it on you.”

 

“Why me?” Chanyeol interjects, only half understanding the explanation. 

 

“I have no interest in women,” Sehun admits easily with a well-timed sip of his drink. “The other students at my school are only interested in two things: networking and casual fucking as a prelude to networking. All my closest friends are older and they’re either working or traveling abroad. You can say I’ve been feeling a bit lonely lately.”

 

“And you thought paying for someone to be your friend was a good idea?” Chanyeol asks incredulously. 

 

“I want to be more than just friends, obviously,”  Sehun says before taking another sip of his drink. Chanyeol can see the sly grin he tries to hide behind his straw. “But the way I grew up, it’s not uncommon to pay for everything. Even friends.”

 

Chanyeol lets that information sit for a long minute and in the end still he can’t wrap his head around the concept. He doesn’t know if he should be amazed or sad. _Why me?_ he wants to ask again but Sehun isn't finished.

 

“I was only on the website out of curiosity after hearing about it from my friends. I hadn’t planned on participating in the bids, but then I saw your profile and figured - hey, why not?” He puts his drink down, the glass now empty. “I always thought you were cool in high school. Your class was fun and you never yelled at us even if we sucked.” The look in his eyes shifts into something more piercing when he looks back up at his former teacher. “You were good looking back then as well. Still are.”

 

Chanyeol suddenly feels hot under the collar of his shirt. His mouth feels dry, and he can feel heat climb up from his neck all the way to his ears. “What should I call you?” He struggles with the words, suddenly tongue tied. “Sehun? Willis?”

 

“Sehun is fine,” the younger man replies, smiling wide so his eyes crinkle. “That’s a ‘yes’, then? To calling you hyung and...” He arches a brow, “Us? I want to see you again.”

 

Chanyeol has his reservations and a warmth still suffusing his cheeks but excitement thrums just beneath the surface of his skin all the same when he breathes out, “ _Yes.”_

 

 

\--

 

 

“Let me take you home,” Sehun insists when they’ve had enough of the formalities, a long talk over tall glasses of chocolate bubble tea to decide if Chanyeol fits Sehun’s fantasy enough to pay for the experience - and if Chanyeol can tolerate being that fantasy for an extended period of time. 

 

There’s usually more alcohol involved, more subtle, inappropriate advances he has to fend off. This time though, Chanyeol hadn’t found it tedious at all. He learned that Sehun was the youngest of two sons, his older brother married with two kids and set to inherit the family business. His parents were doting, but often absent. They gave him free reign over his studies and an (very generous) allowance as long as he brings home good grades. Unsurprisingly, he’s studying business, hoping to contribute to the family business in the future. He lived in an apartment off campus and sometimes participates in a dance troupe on the weekends. 

 

Sehun spoke quietly, his words well thought out but not calculated, his slight lisp oddly endearing rather than annoying. Chanyeol also found himself being more honest than he’s usually inclined to be in this kind of setting. He shared a very watered-down version of how he’s come to be in this kind of… _business_ , citing unfulfilled hopes and dreams, that turned into a more convenient and lucrative past time. Sehun hadn’t pushed for more than what he’s told. He’d listened so intently, maintaining steady eye contact nearly the whole time that Chanyeol had to periodically clear his throat and look away. At one point, Sehun patted his arm in comfort and he paused to wonder when they gravitated close enough to touch. 

 

In the present, Chanyeol thinks about declining, and Sehun frowns at his hesitation. “It’s too late to take public transportation,” he says, the corners of his mouth pulling into a brief pout before he schools his expression back to something more neutral, eyes still sharp. “Your safety is important,” he continues with a brush of his fingertips over Chanyeol’s knee. 

 

Chanyeol watches the hand as it retreats, resting back casually over Sehun’s thighs to join with the other one. They look like good hands, Chanyeol thinks absently, long fingers and wide palms, pale skin over delicate wrist bones and thick veins running up and down the forearm. Good to grip, good to curl, good to hold. His eyes dart to Sehun’s face and he bites his inner cheek to stop his sharp intake of breath at the look that’s returned.

 

“I can _hear_ you thinking, hyung,” Sehun teases, leaning an elbow on the table to prop his chin on one hand. It changes their proximity very little, but the atmosphere suddenly feels charged, intimate. “Tell me?”

 

Chanyeol initiates the touch this time, sliding over the leather of the booth just enough to reach out, his own large hand covering Sehun’s, fingers slotting between his knuckles to stroke over the thin fabric of trousered thighs. His fingertips skim just past the inseam, the muscle beneath firm with just a hint of a quiver when his pinky rests a little too high up. 

 

“Yeah, okay,” he breathes. “Take me home.”

 

 

\--

 

 

They don’t fall into bed that night like Chanyeol is expecting- like he’s wanting. 

 

Sehun drives with one hand on the wheel, the other on the gear shift between them. The smooth way he weaves onto the main road and into traffic has Chanyeol warming up, the heat simmering low in his belly. He’s always had a penchant for fast cars with expensive price tags; an attractive man behind the wheel just makes the ride all the more appealing. 

 

The drive is quiet but comfortable, the mood almost contemplative. It isn’t long before they pull up by the curb just outside the gates of his apartment building. He expects a come on, a list of all the reasons Chanyeol should invite him up. Instead, Chanyeol gets a question, a quiet, _can I kiss you, hyung?_ that’s almost too loud in the small space of Sehun’s ridiculously expensive sports car as it idles patiently. Chanyeol’s answer is to lean over the center console to offer his mouth, anticipating the press of soft lips against his. He isn’t disappointed, the rustle of cloth against plush leather a prelude to the arm that comes around his shoulders and pulls him in. 

 

The kiss is light but probing, as quietly insistent as Chanyeol is beginning to learn Sehun is. Chanyeol lets him lead the kiss, all too willing to follow, to learn more. A single swipe of a tongue against his bottom lip has Chanyeol opening his mouth eagerly, the aftermath satisfying. A hand tangles in the hair at the back of his head and he inhales sharply at the pressure. Sehun uses it to angle his head, to deepen the kiss until Chanyeol is panting - until they both are - and chasing his lips when they pull back for air. 

 

Sehun indulges him, dipping his head for one kiss and then another, and another, and another. It’s dizzying, the chemistry they have, and Chanyeol can hardly believe it. He wants to push for more, attempts it with a hand aimed for the thickness he spies is prominent against Sehun’s zipper, but he only feels its warmth against his palm briefly before he’s being pulled away. 

 

Sehun groans, shaking his head, fingers tight around Chanyeol’s wrist. “Not tonight,” he breathes roughly. At the older man’s look of confusion, dazed from their kisses but still questioning, Sehun nips teeth just underneath Chanyeol’s jaw before soothing it away with a flick of his tongue. 

 

He doesn’t offer Chanyeol much of an explanation but he does give him something like a promise, an _I’ll see you soon_ murmured just before he urges Chanyeol out of the car. 

 

 

\--

 

 

Chanyeol doesn’t mean to get his hopes up but it happens anyway. 

 

At this point, he knows better than to have any sort of expectations, because it’s easier to be disappointed otherwise. Most of the time he ends up feeling stupid for being disappointed and for feeling more than he should in the end. He does his best to make the work be exclusively about money, but it isn’t always easy.

 

It takes a lot, to work this kind of job, and he’s had to put himself in a very particular mindset to cope; one that expected evenings of little to no attraction to an older man or woman with limited time but an unlimited wallet, deflecting hands wandering too early and too high up his legs while they made inane small talk over drinks. Handsy older men and women he knew how to deal with - their motives are transparent enough, even if Chanyeol has the tendency to become a little too attached to the ones that are both too rich and too nice. He’s not equipped to deal with young people, even with his short stint working part time as a teacher some years ago. 

 

While Chanyeol doesn’t usually discriminate between genders when it comes to his clients, he also understands that he has the physique and aura that attracts certain type of people. Most of his clients over the years have been lonely, older women with the occasional lecherous older man thrown in every now and again. The work is easy, expected, and great for his bank account.

 

He likes being spoiled rotten by people who lived in excess. It feeds a need in him, a gnawing ache in his chest that craves attention and affection - and if maybe he’s a little lonely and more than a little touch-starved, he won’t admit to it.

 

Days of radio silence from Sehun’s end keep Chanyeol distracted, unable to focus on the two other clients he goes out with that week. One of them isn’t a regular so if he’s not as attentive as he should be, the lady doesn’t notice. He distracts her with two orgasms - one with his fingers and the other with his mouth - and she’s sated enough, completely unaware. 

 

Junmyeon, on the other hand, _is_ a regular and can tell right away. He’s more a friend at this point and their arrangement isn’t of a sexual nature. Junmyeon is a director for an accounting firm, one that belongs to his family but he isn’t set to inherit. That doesn’t stop the older man from working hard as if he was, often putting in long hours for weeks on end. He calls Chanyeol every now and then to accompany him on the golf course or a sponsored event. 

 

“You okay?” Junmyeon asks on the way back to the golf cart before heading across the green to ride to the next hole. 

Chanyeol waves away his concern. “Yeah. Just a lot on my mind.”

 

“You sure? You know you can ask me for anything, right?” Junmyeon continues on. “If you need any help, either with money, or if someone’s bothering you-”

 

“No, hyung,” Chanyeol says with a shake of his head. “Nothing like that.”

 

Junmyeon doesn’t look convinced but he also doesn’t push, knowing well enough that Chanyeol will talk when he’s ready. 

 

They finish off the rest of the course without incident and Chanyeol tries to put more enthusiasm into teasing the older man in his choice of hobbies. His efforts do little to persuade Junmyeon otherwise - he coddles Chanyeol the rest of the afternoon, taking him out to an expensive lunch at the golf club’s resort, as well as to an afternoon massage and sauna time. He sticks close, encouraging Chanyeol to cling if he wants and he does so without a second thought. He slings an arm around the older man’s shoulders, leaning in to nuzzle at his neck. They’re all lazy limbs and slick with sweat while they languish in the heat. Chanyeol licks a stripe across Junmyeon’s throat and gets an elbow in the gut for his teasing.  

 

He goes home with Junmyeon that night, indulging in the other man’s offer to be the big spoon. Chanyeol can’t regret it, not when the promise to be held, _just_ held without reservation, expectation, or judgment is too good to pass up. The offer isn’t completely selfless either, Chanyeol knows. It’s in Junmyeon’s nature to give, give, give, and it does something for him too, to be able to cradle Chanyeol against his smaller frame, to feed him expensive food and take him to luxurious places.

 

He likes taking care of people and Chanyeol is more than happy to be taken care of. 

 

 

\--

 

 

Chanyeol takes a job in Jeju-do, accompanying Chinese shipping magnate Wu Yifan for a few days to help the older man unwind. 

 

Yifan makes Chanyeol feel small in all the right ways: he’s tall, taller than even Chanyeol, and everything about him is big - his long arms wrap around Chanyeol effortlessly, caging him in against every plausible surface; his large hands with their long fingers that span Chanyeol’s waist, gripping his hips, circling his hard length and engulfing almost all of it in one palm; his cock is just as long and just as big, a girth that makes Chanyeol both salivate to wrap his lips around it and makes his ass throb at just the thought of it inside him.  

 

It’s a languid three days on the island that starts and ends with them in bed: Yifan’s ego is as big as the rest of him and he likes for Chanyeol to be loud, to lose himself, to blubber and cry and struggle for one more, one last orgasm before he can rest. He keeps Chanyeol naked too, strangely averse to tan lines, can spend long hours just watching Chanyeol sunbathe intermittently under the shade in their private stretch of land. 

 

When they do get to leaving their room, it’s to entertain the taller man’s obsession with fashion too odd and too expensive for Chanyeol’s mind to comprehend. When he isn’t in sleek expensive business suits, or naked and ravishing Chanyeol to within an inch of his life, Yifan dresses like he’s both colorblind and without basic understanding of how clothes work. His choices are all strange patterns and long gold chains, layers and layers of fabric that he offers to buy Chanyeol too. Chanyeol is able to refuse most of it, all of the clothes at least, but unable to resist when Yifan holds a glinting, heavy wristwatch to his face in contemplation. 

 

“This will look good on you,” he murmurs, smiling, the look on his face satisfied. 

 

And Yifan, for all his dubious fashion sense, at least has a good eye for accessories. 

 

“If you say so, _ge_ ,” Chanyeol returns evenly, trying not to appear too excited.

 

“I do say so,” Yifan replies with a sly grin and a squeeze of his fingers to the back of Chanyeol’s neck. 

 

Chanyeol does his best to suppress the shiver of arousal that snakes its way down his spine. 

 

 

\--

 

 

Later, Chanyeol gets back to the city with his body tanned and well-loved, his carry-on luggage a few expensive souvenirs heavier. The first thing he does after a long nap undisturbed by wandering fingers is to check his work app to see what the rest of his week is looking like. 

 

 _Oasis_ , the agency he works for, has a website and corresponding mobile application that allows potential clients to make bids on his profile to dictate his calendar. Every week, Chanyeol is able to pick and choose from the highest bidders which jobs to accept. Over the past two years he’s built quite a following, with a rotating schedule of regulars - like Junmyeon - he makes a point to block time for, as well as saving one or two days a week to meet strictly with potential new clients. His public profile contains basic information like his biometric data and a few interests. Those who win the bidding have access to more of it, including his preferences and an extended list of kinks among other things. Chanyeol pays an automatic monthly fee for the agency to keep his profile active and they also take a small cut of every job he accepts. 

 

Logging in, the first thing he sees is a notification for the confirmation of the second half of Yifan’s payment for his time. Chanyeol smiles at the number, extra wide at the extra zeros added — Yifan is always generous, and this time is no exception. It was time well spent in Chanyeol’s opinion, exactly what he needed to keep his mind off _other_ potential jobs. 

 

Unwilling to dampen his good mood, Chanyeol quells his lingering disappointment with a determined shake of his head. He moves on to the next tab to view the bids for the following week, inwardly berating himself for his nonsense. 

 

He pauses when he does so, heart thudding at the highest bidder for the week: _Willis Oh._  

 

Immediately, Chanyeol understands that the excitement that zips through him at just seeing a name on the screen is dangerous, that the electricity slithering down his spine to curl heat low in his abdomen is unwarranted, uncalled-for - but that doesn’t stop him from choosing to confirm as fast as his fingers will let him. His heart gives another thud when he does; now he just has to wait.

 

He’s in lounge pants, browsing through TV shows a while later when his phone vibrates with a new notification from an unknown number. It’s a new message that says only,

 **[Unknown Number]**  

 _Hyung._  

 

 

Instinctively, Chanyeol knows who it is. It really could be only one person. His mind conjures up the way Sehun’s lips mouth the word and it’s almost like he can hear an echo of it in his head.  

 

 

 **[Sehun]**  

 _This is Sehun._  

 

 

As if Chanyeol needed the confirmation. His reply is teasing, maybe just a little miffed at having to wait so long.

 

 

 

 

 

    **[Chanyeol]**  

 _Hello, Willis._  

**Sehun]**

_Can I call you?_

 

 

**[Chanyeol]**

_Sure._

 

 

His phone starts ringing seconds later with an incoming call. 

 

 _“Please don’t call me that,”_ he complains the moment Chanyeol picks up. There’s a hint of a whine in his voice that makes Chanyeol smile, gleeful. 

 

“Too late. You’re Willis from now on,” Chanyeol snickers, continuing to tease. 

 

“ _No, please. I get enough shit about it from my friends_ ,” Sehun grumbles and Chanyeol wishes he could see his face. 

 

“I’ll think about it,” Chanyeol says with a pleased hum when he hears Sehun’s exasperated sigh over the line. 

 

“ _Are you free today?”_

 

“I am,” Chanyeol says, pulling at a corner of a random couch cushion, uncharacteristically full of nerves. There’s the muted sound of other voices in the background, at first very loud then quieter, as if Sehun is moving away from a crowd. 

 

_“My last class ends at four. I’ll pick you up after, is that ok?”_

 

Chanyeol agrees easily and they hang up, Sehun asking him to dress comfortably and to expect him at half past four. A quick glance at his phone tells Chanyeol he has time to nap a little more and shower before he has to get ready. 

 

He ends up only being able to doze, rolling around in bed, too excited for real sleep. It continues to be elusive for the rest of the afternoon. After a while of tossing and turning with little progress Chanyeol decides to get ready, starting with a quick snack followed by a much longer shower. He indulges himself by lingering under the warm spray, hands slippery with soap and contemplating if he should entertain his half hard erection. It’s certainly tempting, what with the anticipation of seeing Sehun again simmering just beneath his skin. He bites his lip to stifle a groan when he pulls off a few half-hearted strokes, choosing to forego instant gratification. He decides he likes the heat curling low in his gut, the heavy weight of unfulfilled desire in his groin. It’ll serve his purpose well for the evening. 

 

Keeping Sehun’s instructions in mind, Chanyeol chooses a thick navy sweater in a soft material that clings just enough to show off his own broad shoulders and tight black jeans. It’s a different aesthetic than when Sehun last saw him; back then he’d been dressed to seduce and arouse. This time around he wants to look comfortable - attainable - but still enticing. Chanyeol eyes himself critically in the mirror and knows he looks good. 

 

When it’s time, Chanyeol makes his way down to the front entrance of his apartment building and knows exactly who it is when the sleek black sports car pulls up, a different one from the last time they met. He knows without a doubt even before the passenger side window rolls down to reveal Sehun’s sharp features. 

 

“Hyung,” he calls out, leaning over the center console to see Chanyeol better. “Get in.”

 

Chanyeol does so with a low whistle, running his hands over all the smooth leather of his seat as well as the dashboard. There’s surprisingly enough leg room despite the make of the car. “Nice ride,” Chanyeol comments, getting comfortable while still marveling at how luxurious his seat is. 

 

“Thanks,” Sehun replies with the tiniest curl of his mouth. There’s a heat in his gaze that makes Chanyeol feel bold, a little shameless. It gives him the courage to turn his head and lean closer, mouth puckered slightly, expectant. 

 

Sehun doesn’t hesitate, bridging the gap between them with a quick tilt of his head. The kiss is slow and languid, almost lazy, all broad strokes of the tongue and teasing nips to Chanyeol’s bottom lip. It leaves Chanyeol groaning, straining against his seat belt to get closer, tugging Sehun closer with hands to the back of the younger man’s head. 

 

“Missed me, did you?” Sehun asks with a breath drawn in sharply when they break apart for air. 

 

“No,” Chanyeol retorts, petulant and too quick. He can hear the lie the moment he says it. 

 

“Well, _I_ missed you,” Sehun argues, curling long fingers along Chanyeol’s neck and squeezing rhythmically, soothingly. “The least you can do is return the sentiment.” Chanyeol hums, neither agreeing or disagreeing, and Sehun just grins at him before pulling away from the curb. 

 

Chanyeol inquires about his day and they settle into some light conversation. Sehun was indeed at school and he grumbles over his professors and his course load, the typical troubles of a young college student. There’s a hint of a whine to the way he recounts his day and Chanyeol finds himself much too interested. He can’t help but give in to the impulse to touch, running his fingers up and down Sehun’s forearm before taking it by the wrist and placing it on his own lap, palm down and high up on his thigh. 

 

Sehun looks startled at the gesture, eyes flitting from Chanyeol’s face to his hand in Chanyeol’s lap, staring a little too long to be safe. 

 

“Eyes on the road, Willis,” Chanyeol teases and Sehun is quick to retaliate. “ _Agh!_ ” Chanyeol yelps, the sudden pinch to his left thigh is jarring and has him slapping away the offending hand. 

 

“I told you not to call me that,” Sehun complains, eyes thankfully focused on the road ahead of them but looking too pleased. He reaches out too, returning his hand to Chanyeol’s thigh with a firm squeeze, ignoring the other’s attempt to remove it. 

 

“Where are we going?” Chanyeol huffs in feigned indignation, the sound stuttering a little, and he has to force himself to keep his breathing even. Sehun’s hand is warm, even through denim. His fingers are long, the tips curling and uncurling, catching repeatedly on the inseam of his jeans, and Chanyeol resolutely stares out the window in search of a distraction. 

 

“We’re here, actually,” Sehun says, pulling away his hand to steer them into a parking space. Chanyeol ignores the way he misses the warmth and weight of it immediately. 

 

 _Here_ ends up being one of the most exclusive Japanese restaurants in the city. Chanyeol’s only ever been to it once, and only for drinks at the bar while he’d been accompanying someone else. They’re quickly ushered through the main dining area and into a room sectioned off by wooden slats. There’s a narrow counter enclosing a smaller kitchen space, behind which a man in a chef’s uniform is waiting. He bows when they enter and after a brief round of introductions and some words with the hostess about their order, the chef gets to work. 

 

“Is this your version of an after-school snack?” Chanyeol asks, a little awed and definitely impressed as the chef makes delicate slices of raw fish in front of him. 

 

Sehun snorts from beside him. “This tasting menu has four courses. It’s hardly a snack.”

 

“Your modesty is very appealing,” Chanyeol replies evenly, quirking a brow in the younger man’s direction. 

 

Sehun shrugs, unbothered. They’re offered drinks by the wait staff shortly after, water and a Japanese wine to pair with the food. They’re served in courses, the food as much a feast for the eyes as it is the mouth. Conversation slows as they eat but the moments of quiet are never uncomfortable. The food is good enough to keep them occupied and Chanyeol enjoys the opportunity to observe Sehun in relative peace.

 

He looks a little tired today, with faint shadows underneath his eyes and hair a little mussed from constantly running hands through them. He yawns every few minutes in between bites and his wine glass remains untouched for the majority of the meal. 

 

As they wait for dessert, what looks to be some kind of delicate sorbet in the shape of a flower, Chanyeol leans over until their shoulders are touching. “Tired?” he asks, sliding an arm around his back and running it up and down Sehun’s side. He pays the chef no mind, trusting that the service in the restaurant extends to a level of privacy that rivals the price of their meal. 

 

“A little bit,” Sehun replies with another yawn he hides behind the back of his hand. 

 

Chanyeol leans in closer to nose along his temple before inhaling the skin at his throat. They’re the same height so Chanyeol doesn’t even hurt his neck doing it. Sehun smells clean, just soap and a hint of something almost like baby powder, nothing like the expensive cologne Chanyeol is used to - like he was expecting. 

 

“Hyung,” Sehun sighs, the word more a breath than any real sound. 

 

“Take me home with you,” Chanyeol murmurs into his ear, pressing his lips softly against the shell. 

 

“Yeah?” Sehun tilts his head down to look Chanyeol in the eye, brow raised in question. 

 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol answers, too eager and absolutely sure. “I can help you relax.”

 

“We should eat,” Sehun points out.

 

Chanyeol agrees, but he can’t spare the food a glance, sure it's a magnificent display, not when the only thing he can focus on is the way Sehun nods, eyes bright and suddenly not looking tired at all. 

 

“Yes,” Chanyeol answers, pulling away. His pulse thrums, heat beginning to simmer just beneath his skin and mouth suddenly dry. He makes a point not to look away when he says, “I’m starving.”

 

 

\--

 

 

Predictably, Sehun lives on the top floor of a condo halfway between the city and where he goes to school. There’s valet parking and a doorman involved, as well as some complicated security mechanism just to get through to his front door. If Chanyeol cared to pay attention he’s sure to be awed by the spacious living room and its floor to ceiling view of the outside, but as it is, he’s pretty occupied. They’re on each other the moment the front door closes behind them.

 

Chanyeol grunts at the impact of the wood at his back, pushing against it to arch into Sehun’s touch and wrap arms around his broad shoulders. Their mouths clash in a messy kiss more teeth and tongue than lips - its dirty, wet, and not enough. 

 

The ride back had been quiet and tense with anticipation, lacking the easy touches of their earlier drive. Trying to keep their hands off each other through the front lobby and up the elevator ride had been an ordeal in itself, but Chanyeol wants to think all of it was worth it for the way Sehun presses against him, out of breath, both of them hard and unmistakable even through the obstruction of clothing. 

 

“Sehunnie,” Chanyeol gasps, the small endearment slipping naturally as he’s pulled roughly by the hips and lifted against the door. His legs wrap automatically around a slim waist, bringing them even closer, and they both groan at the added friction. Sehun’s hands are a brand on his skin as they reach under his sweater to thumb at his nipples while his mouth wreaks havoc with what little sanity Chanyeol has left. 

 

“Let me fuck you, hyung,” He mutters into the hollow of Chanyeol’s throat, right where he licks against the rapid beating of his pulse. 

 

“ _Yes yes_ ,” Chanyeol utters in a sharp exhale, seeking friction, wanting more. 

 

“Bedroom,” Is Sehun’s only answer, though neither of them makes any effort to go in that direction. Chanyeol’s too occupied by all the pleasure centered south - the slow, rhythmic grind they’ve found that’s good, so good, too good, even just like this. “Come on.”

 

Chanyeol whines in frustration when Sehun goes to pull away, locking his ankles behind the other’s back to keep him close. “Wait-” He tugs at Sehun’s hair to bring his mouth back in another kiss but the younger man isn’t deterred. 

 

“Fuck, hyung- come on,” he grunts as he lifts Chanyeol by the ass and away from the door to the living room. 

 

He’s dumped unceremoniously on the couch in a tangle of long limbs, but Chanyeol can’t even begin to care beyond a surprised yelp, too distracted by the expanse of skin Sehun reveals with every piece of clothing he discards. Chanyeol follows suit, getting rid of his sweater in one swift motion. 

 

“Let me,” he says, scrambling to sit up before Sehun can work on his jeans. His fingers fumble at the button, clumsy, and Chanyeol’s never been so frustrated with a piece of clothing in his life; precious seconds, wasted. 

 

He gets it eventually, zipper too, and all that’s left between him and Sehun’s dick is a thin layer of underwear - silk, predictably - that’s negligible, more for show at this point. There’s a large wet patch near the top where the tip is poking out of the waistband, slick with precome and _fuck_ he’s big, Chanyeol thinks, thick and long and heavy with the weight of itself as it strains towards his belly button. Sehun groans when Chanyeol wraps eager fingers around him, thumbing at his slit and licking away beads of come. 

 

“Shit-” he mutters when Chanyeol starts to suck at the tip. Hands come up to twist fingers into the hair at either side of his head, tugging sharply, but he pays them no mind. His eyes flutter shut at the stretch, dizzy in anticipation for the inevitable ache in his jaw. He tongues the underside, tracing up and down a pulsing vein, mouthing at the base until its wet enough to stroke with ease. He uses two hands to squeeze, enjoying the feel of it in his palms before returning to the suckle at the head. 

 

He works his way down with practiced ease, swallowing around a little more than half before the tickle in his throat signals him to pull back. He hollows his cheeks and sucks hard, a deft hand covering what he can’t fit into his mouth. It’s an effective combination that Chanyeol’s perfected through trial, error, and personal experience; he fully expects the way Sehun’s hips jerk, anticipates it even, the way his eyes water and his throat flutters around the head.

 

“Ah- fuck,” Sehun heaves, curling his long body over Chanyeol’s head to grip the couch as he continues to bob his head. “Hyung- hyung wait-” Fingers in his hair again, unforgiving now as they struggle to yank him away. “Fuck I’m gonna come.”

 

“Ca-” Chanyeol has to cough before he continues. “Can you come again?” he asks hoarsely, voice wrecked and scratchy. It’s too early to beg but Chanyeol wants to anyway, a fire in him burning away any shame he should feel at the urge to kneel - kneel between Sehun’s legs and beg for his mouth to be fucked.

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Sehun groans again, eyes squeezed shut, as if all of it is too much. “I-”

 

“Please?” Chanyeol begs, giving in. “Please, I - I want it.”

 

“Shit- okay,” Sehun nods sharply, letting go of Chanyeol’s hair to cup his hand around the back of his neck instead. 

 

Chanyeol’s moan is loud when he takes Sehun back into his mouth. It’s a combination of delighted and desperate, that gnawing, needy part of himself begging to be satisfied. It feels good like this too, his own length hot and hard and straining against the zipper of his jeans. The discomfort only adds to the haze of pleasure already clouding his mind, bolts of heat, rough friction and the bitter, salty taste of Sehun on his tongue threaten to push him over the edge too. 

 

Sehun fucks his mouth, slowly at first with fists tight in Chanyeol’s hair, hips rolling carefully, so controlled it brings out the ridges of muscle in his abdomen. He encourages the movement with a loud moan, muffled, followed by another and another until Sehun finds a pace good enough for the both of them. It turns rough quickly; Chanyeol gets pushed back against the couch with the power of Sehun’s thrusts, his head thumping against the backrest. Chanyeol can tell Sehun is close by the way his thighs tense under his fingers, his breathing nothing but a harsh staccato above him. 

 

“Shit shit shit,” Sehun grunts, hips losing their rhythm. “Hyung I’m g-gonna -” Sehun bucks against him, thrusting so hard down Chanyeol’s throat he can’t breathe, never mind swallow. His throat convulses and Chanyeol fights the urge to rear back and gasp for air as long as he can but he still comes up coughing, Sehun coming in sticky white spurts all over his face and chin. 

 

Sehun slumps against Chanyeol’s stomach and the back of the couch with heaving gulps of air, body spent. Chanyeol whimpers beneath him, still coughing, trying to clear his throat. He slaps at Sehun’s thigh halfheartedly, trying to catch his breath but unable to ignore the way his cock strains against the front of his jeans any longer without some sort of distraction. He’s so hard he doesn’t think he can wait long enough for Sehun to get it up again to fuck him like wants.

 

“Sehunnie,” he says hoarsely, voice shot and hips canting up in search of friction in the empty air. 

 

“Shit,” Sehun exhales, pushing himself up and reaching one hand behind him to palm at Chanyeol over his jeans. Chanyeol jolts at the contact, hissing at the bite of the metal zipper. “Sorry, hyung.”

 

Sehun’s soft cock drags over Chanyeol’s chest, the tip still oozing, dragging a string of cum over his sternum as he moves off Chanyeol and onto the couch. He folds a leg under him while he makes quick work of Chanyeol’s jeans. He leans over to lick at the mess on Chanyeol’s face, tasting himself as he strokes Chanyeol hard and fast. 

 

“Next time,” he says, biting at Chanyeol’s jaw, “I promise to fuck you till you come.”

 

Fire burns in Chanyeol’s veins, the thought of next time - another time - enough to shove him over the edge. He comes with a cry, a garbled sound that Sehun swallows, sucking on Chanyeol’s tongue as he comes. He strokes Chanyeol through the high until he’s shuddering at the overstimulation, cock twitching, and underwear ruined. 

 

“No more,” Chanyeol whines, legs coming together to stall the movement of Sehun’s hand. 

 

“Okay,” Sehun hums, his fingers slowing to swirl in the mess on Chanyeol’s stomach. Chanyeol watches, eyes heavy lidded as he brings slick fingers up to his face, staring before he licks tentatively at the tips. He snorts when Sehun grimaces at the taste. “Gross.”

 

Chanyeol shrugs, the movement sluggish. “I like it.”

 

“Yeah?” Sehun asks, voice husky and eyes dark with curiosity. 

 

Chanyeol pulls his cum-slick hand into his mouth, tongue darting between the length of Sehun’s fingers to suck all the way down to his knuckles. “Mhm.”

 

Sehun takes his hand back to lick his way into Chanyeol’s mouth, humming thoughtfully. Chanyeol’s heart rate picks up by the time he’s pulled away, a familiar warmth stirring low in his belly. His breath hitches when he feels Sehun’s dick twitch against his side. 

 

“Still not great,” Sehun comments, watching Chanyeol watch him. 

 

“You sure about that?” Chanyeol asks, reaching for Sehun and holding his length lightly, feeling him harden slowly in his palm. 

 

“I could be persuaded,” Sehun hisses through his teeth. “But shower first.” Chanyeol agrees easily, starting to feel itchy at the dried cum on his neck and stomach. He starts to pull away only to have Sehun pull him in for one more kiss. “Shower first,” he says, voice low and throaty, a hand curving over the swell of Chanyeol’s ass. “And then I have to keep my promise.”

 

Chanyeol shudders in anticipation. 

 

\--

 

Dinner after Sehun’s classes becomes a regular affair after that. Every week, he looks forward to Sehun’s name at the top of his bids, going so far as to forego taking on new clients and seeing his regulars at increasing intervals just to spend time with him. Sehun compensates him well; the balance on Chanyeol’s bank account has never been so healthy.   

 

They spend long evenings together, one after the next where he discovers that Sehun is a picky eater - not surprising in the least - constantly on the hunt for something he likes, often ordering large amounts of this or that off a menu only to pick at his food when it arrives. Chanyeol isn’t as particular, more than happy to eat leftovers, so they make a good match.  

 

What confuses him is that it’s often _just_ dinner. What excites him is the potential for it to be more.  

 

“You’re so creepy,” Sehun grumbles at him on one of the few occasions they make it past lazy, hot kisses on the couch. The younger man has his eyes closed, but Chanyeol knows when he’s being judged. “Stop watching me when I sleep.” 

 

“You fell asleep in the middle of a blow job,” Chanyeol points out, judging right back but still carding fingers through Sehun’s damp, slightly sweaty hair. 

 

“I wasn’t asleep!” Sehun argues, cheeks pink with embarrassment. “I just...closed my eyes for a little bit.” 

 

“Yeah and then never opened them again,” Chanyeol says with a roll of his eyes. He isn’t mad, not at all, not when the shadows underneath Sehun’s eyes are deep and it’s obvious he’s tired.  

 

Sehun paws around lazily for Chanyeol’s arm, reeling him in, eyes still closed. “Sorry,” he mutters quietly, apologetically, into the crook of Chanyeol’s neck. “It’s almost the end of the semester and I haven’t been sleeping well.” 

 

“Poor baby,” Chanyeol teases, pinching at Sehun’s upturned cheek. “That’s okay. You’ll make it up to me.” 

 

“Tell me what you want,” Sehun says, pushing up onto his elbows to look down at Chanyeol, his hair mussed and looking adorably sleepy. 

 

“Fuck me,” Chanyeol says, watching as the eyes that watch him so intently go dark with a different kind of hunger. “But later.” 

 

“I can do that,” Sehun groans, leaning down to kiss Chanyeol on the mouth. He pauses just before their lips meet. “Why later?” 

 

Chanyeol answers by winding a leg behind Sehun’s knee and rolling them until he’s on top, the movement made easy by their similar height. He makes himself comfortable, laying his head on Sehun’s chest. “After your nap, silly.”

 

Sehun grumbles a little, but doesn’t complain much, dozing off fast; he must be more tired than Chanyeol realized. There’s comfort to be found in the quiet that follows, with only the sound of their breathing to break up the silence and Sehun’s heart beating slow and steady under his ear. Chanyeol finds himself warm in more than just body, but also in heart, a heat that goes beyond just the physical. He should be wary he knows, more cautious, but he just can’t seem to help himself. Sehun is a lure and Chanyeol finds himself constantly baited, constantly giving in when he knows he shouldn’t - when it should be the other way around. 

 

There’s a pang in his chest when he thinks about the tenuous nature of their relationship, how fleeting it could be, hanging on nothing but empty promises. Chanyeol doesn’t like to think about it, the way they could end just as quickly as they began, nothing but a whimsical thought in Sehun’s head, something he could try just because. 

 

It makes sleep harder for Chanyeol to come by, but eventually he does, counting Sehun’s breaths instead of sheep. 

 

 

\--

 

 

“You seem different,” Junmyeon observes as Chanyeol takes a swing at his golf ball and misses. He comes up behind him to correct Chanyeol’s form, nudging his ankles until they’re shoulder width apart. Chanyeol swings again and this time he hits it, but it isn’t very well aimed.  

 

“I don’t know, hyung,” Chanyeol frowns, watching his ball roll pitifully into a pond. “My golf game is still pretty shit.” 

 

“Language,” Junmyeon warns, pinching Chanyeol on the side, then rubbing the sting away with a warm palm. He wraps arms around Chanyeol’s torso and hooks a chin over his shoulder, swaying them a little. “You seem... _happier_ somehow.” 

 

“Do I?” Chanyeol asks, more to himself. He covers Junmyeon’s arms with his own while he thinks. “I wasn’t sad before. But I guess I'm pretty happy right now.”   

 

Junmyeon digs his chin into Chanyeol’s shoulder and it tickles. “Good. I like it when you’re happy.” 

 

“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” Chanyeol asks, tilting his head to bump playfully with Junmyeon’s. The older man bumps him back in return before letting him go.  

 

“Come on, let’s go fish your ball out of the pond.” 

 

“Hey!” Chanyeol exclaims, only a little bit offended. He really does suck at golf. They spend the rest of the afternoon trying to improve Chanyeol’s game to no avail. To soothe his bruised ego, Junmyeon treats him to a nice fancy dinner at the club resort, another massage, more sauna time.  

 

This time, when Junmyeon offers to take him home and be the big spoon, Chanyeol says no. 

 

 

\--

 

 

Days blur into weeks and it isn’t long until Sehun has a monopoly on his time. Chanyeol has stopped seeing new clients all together, hanging on to only a few regulars that don’t see him with nearly as much consistency. Sehun tops his bids for weeks in advance, always paying in full so that Chanyeol gets a little lazy, a little complacent, choosing to stay home and pick up music again instead of working. 

 

Sehun is also generous to a fault, buying him gifts and giving him presents with a cool, impassive look on his face but Chanyeol sees right through him. He mentions once in passing that he misses playing his guitar but hasn’t in a while because he hasn’t had time to buy new strings and days later, he receives a large delivery in the mail. 

 

“If I didn’t buy it for you, you’d never play again,” Sehun rolls his eyes while they sit at a shop and sip their bubble tea. 

 

“I needed new strings not a whole new guitar!” Chanyeol exclaims, trying not to choke on a tapioca pearl that had gone straight down his throat when he’d sipped too hard. 

 

“Semantics,” Sehun replies with a shrug before proceeding to slap Chanyeol on the back so that he doesn’t die. 

 

Perhaps the most shocking gift is the grand piano that he finds sitting in Sehun’s living room not long after the guitar incident. It’s a large instrument, grand and majestic, taking up a large enough space that the couch and other furniture had to be rearranged. 

 

“Do you even play the piano?” Chanyeol asks incredulously, voice going shrill even has he approaches the instrument slowly in disbelief. 

“No, but you do,” Sehun says, leaning a shoulder against the entrance to the living room. 

 

“You bought this for me?” Chanyeol looks at him with eyes wide, still not quite able to pick his jaw up off the floor. 

 

Sehun shrugs then too, all cool and collected but Chanyeol can see the tips of his ears turn bright red. “You should play for me sometime.”

 

Chanyeol agrees, of course, but not before thanking Sehun with enthusiastic kisses and then more. 

 

 

\--

 

 

Still, they don’t see each other every day and Sehun’s monopoly on his calendar along with his very generous gifts leaves Chanyeol with days to himself, too lazy and unwilling to go out with anyone else. Which means that, while his bank account is happy, Chanyeol also finds himself a little touch starved and needier than usual.

 

His favorite days are the ones Sehun decides he doesn’t care anymore and quits studying, sometimes skipping his last class of the day. Frustrated, half-crazed Sehun is also his favorite because it means little wining and dining and more skin to skin contact. Times like that means dinner is more half-assed, like a pizza neither of them can resist. The real challenge becomes trying to open the door to accept the delivery without being reported for being indecent. 

 

Then it’s a whirlwind of pizza slices, tomato sauce, and cheese, trying to eat but also unable to keep their hands off each other. The first time is usually messy and quick, a rush of hormones and arousal that Chanyeol doesn’t want to fight but resists just enough so that they don’t fuck against the piano. It’s his baby and he doesn’t want to desecrate her just yet. 

 

They make it to the bedroom just barely, getting sidetracked with rutting against the bedroom door - always a good time but not always the most comfortable not what either of them wants right now. They haven’t seen each other in two days and Chanyeol can admit he’s missed Sehun. Missed his stupidly handsome face and annoyingly broad shoulders. Missed the bitchy slant to his eyebrows and the slight crookedness of his jaw. Missed Sehun, in all of his bratty entirety. Misses him now, even when he has him because does Chanyeol really have _all_ of him?

 

Those are dark thoughts Chanyeol throws away as quickly as he does the rest of his clothing, unwilling to entertain them when Sehun is looking at him like he’s starving, touching him like he can’t get enough.

 

Chanyeol preps himself quickly in the face of that kind of intensity, feeding off the haze of lust that’s trapped them like a heavy veil they can’t shake off. He hesitates when he reaches for the condom, hoping it isn’t too obvious when his hands falter as he rolls it down Sehun’s length. He’s infatuated, he can admit that now too, but he isn’t stupid, not quite that much, even when all he wants his Sehun inside him without anything between them. 

 

The moment passes and Chanyeol gets most of what he wants, which is Sehun fucking into him fast and hard. His nails leave track marks on the younger man’s skin while Sehun grips his waist hard enough to bruise. They’ll remain for days, reminders for later that Chanyeol will hold onto when he’s feeling lonely. 

 

It’s fast, maybe a little too fast if the slight discomfort on every upwards roll of Sehun’s hips is any indication, but Chanyeol relishes it - it’s the good kind of pain. The one he goes looking for when he thrusts his hips down in counterpoint, eyes rolling to the back of his head when Sehun fucks him just right. It continues like this, tension building until it snaps for the both of them with hoarse cries and quaking limbs. 

 

Chanyeol knows enough to slump to the side so that he doesn’t crush Sehun under him with his dead weight, angling his body to land on the bed with minimal cum on the sheets. He’s only vaguely aware of Sehun beside him, getting up to deal with the condom and presumably to grab a towel for the mess they’ve made. Chanyeol lays sprawled on the bed, trying to catch his breath and waits for him to come back. 

 

There are fingers stroking at his sides and lips sliding across an exposed shoulder when he comes to. Chanyeol startles awake, not meaning to fall asleep in the first place. 

 

“Fuck,” Chanyeol groans, goosebumps erupting across his skin as Sehun’s hands stroke lower and lower, down the curve of his ass and into the cleft. His fingers are gentle, but probing, circling the tender, puffy edges of his hole. Chanyeol doesn’t know how long he was out but it can’t have been that long. “Again?”

 

“Yeah,” Sehun answers, gathering leftover lube and dipping a finger past the rim to make Chanyeol squirm. He bites playfully into the older man’s shoulder. “You’re so hot, hyung. Why wouldn’t I want to fuck you all the time?”

 

Chanyeol shudders at his words, body tightening at the same time Sehun teases him with two fingers. “Hold on,” he says, breathless. “I-I’m gonna need a minute.”

 

“You’ve had twenty,” Sehun pouts, removing his fingers and pressing Chanyeol into the bed with half his body on top of him. 

 

“I need twenty more,” Chanyeol groans at the feel Sehun’s cock hard and ready, straining against his hip. 

 

“That’s ok. Can I eat you out while I wait? I’ll be gentle.”

 

“Y-yeah, okay.” Chanyeol says with a gasp, his dick twitching where it lays against his thigh. He’s never had someone offer to eat him out before, though he’s done it to others plenty. Heat coils in his belly in anticipation. 

 

Sehun doesn’t reply with words, instead he presses lips curved upwards against Chanyeol’s skin, traces his tongue in lazy circles around Chanyeol’s nipples, licks a line down his abdomen to tickle at his bellybutton. He sucks a hickey right above the base of Chanyeol’s dick, holding his hips down when Chanyeol can’t help but writhe.

 

“ _Yum_ ,” Sehun teases, moving down to swirl his tongue around the head. 

 

“Ngh- too much.” Chanyeol whimpers, biting into his lower lip and throwing an arm across his face to counter all the sensations bombarding him. 

 

“Sorry,” Sehun says sheepishly while he gives the tip one last kiss. “Turn over.”

 

Sehun leans away to give him room to rollover onto his stomach and then wastes no time getting to work. “Sehunnie, _a-aah_ ,” Chanyeol keens at the first flick of Sehun’s tongue against his hole, wet, warm, and teasing.

 

“Tastes good,” Sehun hums, the sound muffled as he continues to probe with the tip of his tongue. It’s an altogether different feeling from being stretched by a cock or fingers. Sehun’s tongue is soft, but pointed, not going very deep but sending lightning bolts up and down Chanyeol’s spine at every pass. 

 

Chanyeol jerks involuntarily as Sehun spreads him open with a thumb, licking around it, into him. “Y-you, _ah_ , don’t like the t-taste of cum. You don’t even swallow d-during blow jobs. H-how could you, _oh, oh fuck_ ,” Chanyeol loses his train of thought for a moment as Sehun slips two fingers inside him, slick with spit but not quite slick enough. “H-how could you like this?”

 

Sehun hums from behind him, hands busy and mouth occupied. “I like everything about you,” Sehun says when he pulls back, just enough to nibble at Chanyeol’s tailbone. His fingers don’t stop and somewhere in the haze of building arousal Chanyeol hears the telltale click of the bottle of lube, followed by a dribble of wetness between his cheeks. 

 

Two fingers quickly become three with the added slick and Sehun stretches him leisurely, fingers furling and unfurling slowly. It’s clear he’s in no hurry to find Chanyeol’s prostate or to move things along. Chanyeol’s heart pounds in his ears, bottom lip caught between his teeth as his hips swivel on the bed impatiently, half hard already.

 

“Fuck me, I’m ready,” he whines into the pillows, arousal sharp, almost painful as his cock hardens slowly, almost _too soon._

 

But Sehun is insistent and Chanyeol is only too willing to give in to him, has found it difficult from the very first time they met again to say no to the younger man. There’s just something about him that makes Chanyeol simultaneously want to huddle into his broad chest and cuddle Sehun into his own. Dangerous, dangerous territory, Chanyeol knows, but he can’t seem to help himself anyway. 

 

“I’m gonna need a minute,” Sehun answers cheekily, aimless fingers teasing their target, circling Chanyeol’s prostate lazily. “Maybe even twenty.”

 

“ _No!_ ” Chanyeol sobs into the pillows. His hips jerk, seeking friction but finding none, Sehun lifting him by the waist until he’s on his knees and unable to rub against the bed. “Fuck me,” he begs, pushing back against Sehun’s fingers, “-fuck me, please. Please, Sehunnie, please-”

 

Sehun pumps his fingers in and out one more time with a squelch and then Chanyeol is whining at the feeling of emptiness. He barely registers the sound of foil ripping, a split second of regret at having any barrier between them before Sehun is back, sliding all the way inside with barely any resistance. Chanyeol is already loose from their first round of fucking and Sehun’s tongue and fingers had made sure he stayed that way. He’s still big though, and the feeling of fullness is enough to have Chanyeol crying out, muscles tightening instinctively around Sehun’s girth. 

 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Sehun hisses as he holds Chanyeol by the hips, thrusting experimentally. “Wanna have you like this, every day, every night, all the fucking time.” 

 

Chanyeol can only moan in response. “Yes, Sehun-ah, yes, yes, yes-”

 

“You beg so nicely, hyung,” Sehun says through gritted teeth, hands rough as they move to Chanyeol’s waist, pulling him back and thrusting hard. “Tell me, do you beg just as nicely for anyone else?”

 

And _oh, that’s not fair_ , Chanyeol thinks, even as his mind is scrambling through the haze of arousal to make sense of Sehun’s words. “N-no,” he gasps, back bowing when Sehun leans over him and grinds into his prostate. Sehun’s hands find his own, wrapping tight fingers around Chanyeol’s wrists to hold him down.

 

“‘ _No’_ you don’t beg or _‘no’_ to anyone else?” Sehun growls into his ear, the rhythm of his hips faltering. They’re close, the both of them, and Chanyeol is too far gone to answer him coherently, at least not with words. The words resound heavily in his chest anyway, hitting too close to home and Chanyeol’s already given Sehun his body over and over again and over again - he’s only too willing to give him more. 

 

Sehun’s questions remain unanswered in the rush of orgasm that hits Chanyeol all of a sudden, jarring and untouched. It leaves him gasping, choking on air as he cries out against the spasms of his body, only vaguely aware of Sehun following moments after. A haze of bright lights dance behind his eyelids as Sehun fucks him through it, all semblance of rhythm gone. All that’s left is heat and sensation, desire burning, burning, burning between them till they’re spent and panting - _satisfied_ , finally _satisfied._  

 

In the aftermath, when darkness threatens the edges of his consciousness, uncaring that he’s lying in the wet spot, Chanyeol thinks Sehun presses words into his hairline. Dangerous words, he thinks, fighting sleep. The kind of words Chanyeol should be wary of, despite the way they make his heart stutter and his chest warm. 

 

A feeling of foreboding carries him to sleep and turns into nothing but an echo in his dreams. 

 

 

\--

 

 

Sometimes- 

 

Sometimes Sehun doesn’t win the bids. 

 

These days Chanyeol’s whittled his client list to a mere handful, a select few regulars that expect for him to be nothing but a pretty face or a happy companion and nothing more. He’s made both conscious and unconscious decisions to refuse anyone who’d require physical intimacy and it’s been weeks since he’s entertained anyone new. Sehun makes it easy enough, always coming out on top in the weekly bids so that Chanyeol can justify choosing him every time.

 

But sometimes, Chanyeol receives offers that are hard for him to refuse, that make think twice before dismissing it.

 

There’s one week his bid tab is suspended, his calendar grayed out and unable to be manipulated until he addresses the bolded notification that’s appeared in his private inbox: 

 

 ** _Contract Offer from Sandara Park_**  

 

She wants two weeks in the Philippines to accompany her to a reunion taking place on some island paradise. She includes picture links to white, sandy beaches and breathtaking views of the horizon. She lists her terms too, which include a wardrobe fitting and a small crash course in English and Filipino.

 

He’s always liked Sandara noona. He’s been on short contracts with her several times and has always enjoyed it - his bank account too. Aside from being very rich, she’s also fun, quirky, and adventurous in bed. She’s beautiful too, everything about her small, petite, almost frail- until she opened her mouth. Then she was just wild. 

 

But it’s the clause about mutual orgasms that has Chanyeol faltering. 

 

Any other time, Chanyeol would jump at the opportunity to travel, see the world, get paid to use his body, sit and look pretty. But he’s hesitating now when in the past he wouldn’t and that’s when Chanyeol knows it’s bad.

 

Contracts are the kind of offers that he wouldn’t normally refuse. They’re a promise of financial stability, security, and a general good time. Chanyeol usually anticipates them, not dread them. 

 

He can’t ignore it now, the fact that he’s gotten too attached. It was easy to overlook all the signs when he was wrapped up in enjoying Sehun’s company. It was easy to justify all the potential clients he’s turned down when he convinced himself Sehun’s money was enough. It was easy to pretend he wasn’t in too deep when Sehun never made him an offer for something more permanent. 

 

Which he _must_ know how to do. It’d be impossible not to, not with how the agency is set up. There are only two options for clients to choose from when trying to accessing profiles on _Oasis_ , either _contracts_ or _bids._ Sehun’s only ever chosen to bid for him, which is why Chanyeol’s calendar stays open week after week. Sure, contracts are more expensive, but the kind of money Sehun drops on him every week is no joke either. 

 

“ _The way I grew up, it’s not uncommon to pay for everything. Even friends.”_

 

No matter how he makes Chanyeol’s heart stutter and heat simmer just beneath his skin, in the end Chanyeol is nothing but a commodity Sehun can pay for, something to play with and discard at any time. 

 

Sandara’s message glares from his inbox. His profile will remain suspended unless he gives her a response, either yes or no. 

 

Chanyeol’s thoughts run wild, torn. He needs to answer - and soon. 

 

 

\--

 

 

“Knock knock,” Chanyeol announces himself before entering Sehun’s study, tapping knuckles on the doorframe for good measure. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

 

Sehun grunts from where he’s bent over his laptop on the desk across the room. Chanyeol takes it as permission to enter. “Almost done?” he asks, sliding an arm behind Sehun’s shoulder as he perches a hip on the arm of the desk chair he’s sitting on. He curls into Sehun’s side, propping his chin lightly on the other’s head, inhaling briefly the light, fruity scent of Sehun’s shampoo. 

 

“No,” Sehun sighs, frowning and grumpy, “But I’m at a good place to stop.” He taps out a few more lines on the keys before saving his work and folding down the laptop’s screen with a decisive snap and pushing it away. “C’mere, hyung,” he says, pulling on Chanyeol’s arm to sit him on the desk. Chanyeol spreads his knees to accommodate him when Sehun rolls forward on the desk chair with a pitiful groan, wrapping arms around Chanyeol’s middle to grumble about schoolwork. 

 

“Can I just quit school?” Sehun mutters, words muffled into the chest of Chanyeol’s oversized t-shirt. “I don’t even _need_ to work. Why am I putting myself through this torture?”

 

Chanyeol just laughs at him, knowing full well that Sehun doesn’t mean any of it. When he isn’t being pressured by exams, Sehun is enthusiastic about his classes and a hard worker, wanting to contribute to his family’s business in the future. Chanyeol ruffles his hair in sympathy. “Because you hate the thought of being some cliche rich boy in a Korean drama?”

 

“But it would be so easy. I’d make a _great_ cliche rich boy in a drama,” Sehun groans again, nuzzling his head lower, into the soft part of Chanyeol’s stomach. 

 

“You _are_ a rich boy,” Chanyeol laughs again. 

 

“We could have gone to dinner if I didn’t have to finish this stupid paper.” Sehun ignores him, tone bordering on a whine. 

 

Chanyeol shrugs, thinks about the stew he has simmering on the stove and how he’s never made it for anyone but himself and family. “I think this is good too,” he says more quietly, no longer teasing. “I don’t mind staying in. You’re just lucky I’m a decent cook.”

 

Sehun makes a noise almost as if he was about to disagree but deciding against it. Instead he lifts his head, demanding kisses. “I deserve it after all the hard work I’ve been doing.”

 

“Of course,” Chanyeol says, leaning in dutifully to kiss him full on the mouth. 

 

Sehun’s lips are soft but chapped from where they’ve been caught between his teeth all day. Chanyeol swipes at his full lower lip for access, immediately granted and sucking Sehun’s tongue into his mouth. It’s a slow kiss, languid, with just enough heat to make Chanyeol’s pulse quicken, but not enough to forget he’s got a pot on the stove.

 

“ _Mmf-_ dinner first,” Chanyeol warns, pulling away and slapping at the hand wandering up his thigh.

 

“Fine,” Sehun pouts up at him, face scrunched up and brows in a furrow. “One more kiss then.”

 

The expression on his face is so cute, so endearing that Chanyeol’s heart stammers for a different reason. It’s quickly followed by an increasingly familiar ache in the cavity of his chest, right behind his rib cage. Chanyeol is quick to ignore it, leaning in to give Sehun the kisses he doesn’t have to ask for. “Just one more then.”

 

 

\--

 

 

“We should go on a trip,” Sehun says much later, four fingers deep and lapping daintily at the cum on Chanyeol’s stomach. 

 

“W-what?” Chanyeol pants, mind scrambled after his orgasm, hips still twitching at the fingers teasing him from the inside. He lets out a high-pitched whine when Sehun grazes his prostate, too, too much, too soon. Sehun kisses the inside of his thigh in apology before pulling his fingers out slowly to grab the box of tissues on the nightstand. 

 

“A trip - like a vacation,” he explains while wiping the mess on Chanyeol’s abdomen before reaching for a condom and more lube. He rolls the condom on and slicks himself up quickly, not bothering to stroke himself more than he needs to. He turns Chanyeol on his side, a pillow between his legs so that he’s comfortable before settling behind him.

 

They both moan loudly when Sehun slides in slowly, all the way to the hilt in one motion. Chanyeol gasps at the over sensitivity when Sehun pumps his hips once, twice, three times, before he curls around Chanyeol’s body from behind, tucking a knee between his legs.  

 

“I was thinking Japan,” he murmurs into the back of Chanyeol’s neck, dropping kisses between his shoulder blades. He runs a lazy hand down Chanyeol’s side, his thigh, tickling a knee before going back up. “Just a few days. After my exams are done. We can go to a ryokan, enjoy the hot springs. Eat some good food. What do you think?”

 

“Mmh, ask me later,” Chanyeol slurs, fumbling for Sehun’s wandering hands causing goosebumps to rise in their wake at every pass. He laces their fingers together and holds it against his stomach, pulling Sehun closer, groaning when the movement jostles the hard cock inside him. 

 

“Okay,” Sehun says, breathless, unable to stop the grinding of his hips. He pulls at his hand in Chanyeol’s, moves it so that it’s curled against the other’s chest instead. “That’s not a no.”

 

“Not a no,” Chanyeol mumbles sleepily, squeezing Sehun’s fingers tightly with his own. _Never a no._  

 

 

\--

 

 

In the early hours of the morning, Sehun wakes him with gentle thrusts from behind, just enough to rock the bed, and Chanyeol out of unconsciousness. It’s a slow process that starts with sensation first, Sehun’s slow glide made easy by the hours he kept Chanyeol stretched with his cock. Chanyeol doesn’t know how he fell asleep with Sehun grinding against him every so often to keep himself hard. He only remembers awareness, coming just as slowly, the haze of sleep accompanied by arousal like a heavy fog. He’s only vaguely aware of his own erection, stiff and already leaking where it rubs against the soft pillow between his legs. 

 

“Hyung,” Sehun grunts in his ear, the movement of his hips picking up in pace. “I know you’re awake.”

 

Chanyeol can only moan in response, still too sleepy and already too close to the edge of coming for so early in the morning. He tips his head back, spine arching, urging Sehun deeper, into a faster pace. 

 

“Nuh-uh, just like this,” he says, hooking an elbow under Chanyeol’s knee and pressing it closer to his chest. It opens him up, the new angle letting Sehun go deeper, just enough to graze the place inside that has Chanyeol shuddering, pushing back for more. 

 

“Sehun-ah,” Chanyeol gasps into the pillow under his head, the rest of him held immobile by Sehun’s arms. It shouldn’t be enough like this, with barely enough friction on his dick and Sehun going harder but not faster. It shouldn’t be enough until all of a sudden it is, his orgasm building and building with every shallow thrust until it’s too much and Chanyeol comes, Sehun’s name on his lips when he tips over the edge. 

 

“F-fuck so tight,” Sehun groans into his ear, hips stuttering as Chanyeol clenches around him. “Still so fucking _tight._ ”

 

Sehun comes with fingers clenched hard, almost painful around Chanyeol’s hips and the imprint of his teeth at the crook of Chanyeol’s neck. Sehun comes with a warm gush inside him, into the condom Chanyeol selfishly wishes wasn’t there. His body tightens again at the thought of Sehun’s cum dripping down his thighs, slick and wet between his legs. Behind him, Sehun hisses, grinds back against him one last time before slowly pulling out. 

 

Chanyeol can’t even protest at the feeling of emptiness, too fucked out, still sleepy, feeling needy in the afterglow. Sehun takes too long to come back to bed in his opinion, but Chanyeol forgives him easily enough when he’s wiped clean and the soiled pillow replaced with a new one. 

 

“What time is it?” Chanyeol asks groggily as Sehun maneuvers them away from any wet spots before curling around him and tucking Chanyeol’s head under his chin. 

 

“Almost six,” Sehun answers, pulling at Chanyeol’s arms and legs so they wrap around him comfortably. 

 

“So early,” Chanyeol groans, biting at Sehun’s chest in exasperation. “You’re insatiable.”

 

“I didn’t hear you complaining,” Sehun says, pulling at Chanyeol’s ear gently in retaliation. 

 

Chanyeol bats his hands away, still sleepy, grasping at the last remaining tendrils of unconsciousness in hopes of being pulled under again. “No cuddles if you’re going to be violent.”

 

Sehun grumbles under his breath but they both settle down, basking in the afterglow, caught between sleep and wakefulness. They talk quietly about their plans for the day. Sehun whines about a study group he should really attend but doesn’t want to and Chanyeol contemplates maybe buying an electric guitar to accompany the new acoustic one Sehun bought him. 

 

“I’ll buy it for you,” Sehun says, squeezing Chanyeol against him when he protests. “I’ll give you my credit card.”

 

“I’ll think about it,” Chanyeol replies, knowing it’d be useless to argue right this moment. He doesn’t want to ruin the mood, wanting to bask in it a while longer. 

 

“Also, I’ll need your passport information so I can book us tickets for Japan,” Sehun says, changing the subject abruptly. “I talked to Baekhyun hyung yesterday - he’s the one with hotels in Japan I told you about - and he’s thinking of investing in an onsen ryokan with a couple of other hyungs this year. They’ve been looking around and recommended this really good place in Oita Prefecture. He says we’ll really like it if we go.” 

 

Sehun continues to ramble on, visibly excited, and Chanyeol would be too, he just has to know one thing.

 

“When did you want to go?” he asks.

 

“Maybe in the next week or two?” Sehun answers after a moment. “I have exams next week, I might need a few days to recover but definitely after that.”

 

“I see,” Chanyeol says, trying for casual but he’d stiffened in place, too late, too obvious.

 

“Why,” Sehun asks, putting space between their faces to look Chanyeol in the eyes. “What’s wrong? You don’t wanna go to Japan with me?”

 

“It’s not that. I don’t think I can. I-” Chanyeol hesitates and he hates the way it’s so obvious. “I might already have something going on around that time.”

 

Sehun pulls away completely, sitting up. Chanyeol doesn’t like having to look up at him to have this conversation so he follows suit, pulling a blanket around his lap to cover himself. 

 

“Plans? What plans? With who?” Sehun asks, frowning, his expression closing off.

 

“I can’t exactly answer that.” Chanyeol replies, looking away because this is a conversation he’d been dreading.

 

“It’s- is it someone else from your...agency? Another-” Chanyeol looks up when Sehun pauses, surprised at the younger man’s vehement tone. “- _client?_ ”

 

Chanyeol doesn’t answer - can’t answer - bound by the weight of so many non-disclosure agreements, but also by the look on Sehun’s face. His jaw is clenched, a vein throbbing in his temple, probably gritting his teeth, lines of anger and hurt marring his usually handsome face. 

 

Chanyeol draws back when Sehun gets up off the bed abruptly, hastily pulling on a pair of shorts before he starts pacing the room. 

 

“Sehun-ah,” Chanyeol tries, gripping the sheets in his lap, anxiety churning in his stomach. 

 

“Tell me,” Sehun stops just on the other side of the bed, hands clenched into fists and suddenly too far away. “Tell me what I have to do, who I have to talk to, how much I have to pay to make you go with me instead.”

 

Chanyeol gapes at him. Doesn’t know how to feel. His heart leaps in his chest but there’s the heat of anger now too, simmering low. 

 

“This is my job, Sehun.” He says it as gently as he can, but firmly because it’s nothing short of the truth and he’s been doing it too long to be embarrassed by it now. 

 

“What if it wasn’t your job?”

 

“That’s not how this works, Sehun,” Chanyeol snaps, eyes scanning the floor for something to put on, hating the way he feels so exposed. He stands, uncaring of his nudity and going for his overnight bag in the closet instead of anything on the floor. 

 

“Why not?” Sehun asks, following behind him. “You already know I can afford it.”

 

“That’s not what this is about,” Chanyeol says, angrily pulling on underwear. “It’s not about the money.”

 

“Then tell me what it is about, hyung,” Sehun says, grabbing for Chanyeol’s shirt when he tries to put it on. “Whatever it is, I can give it to you.”

 

“I told you it’s not about the money,” Chanyeol answers sharply, flinging his end of the shirt in Sehun’s direction when he won’t let go. 

 

“I wasn’t talking about money! I-” Sehun growls, running frustrated hands through his hair. “I think I might-”

 

He doesn’t continue but Chanyeol knows what he’s trying to say, sadness and disappointment settling heavily in his stomach. 

 

“Sehun-ah,” Chanyeol starts. “You don’t. You _can’t_ love me, okay? I’m a fantasy you paid for, remember?”

 

“Don’t tell me how to feel,” Sehun snarls, moving away to pace the room again. “If this isn’t about money, then why choose me all the time, hyung? I know how the bids work. If you didn’t like me, even a little, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

 

He isn’t wrong, Chanyeol thinks, and that’s what hurts the most. 

 

“And what exactly are you asking me, Sehun?” Chanyeol says, angry tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. “You want me to quit my job, stop seeing other people, and be what for you exactly? Some hyung you can fuck around with and throw money at whenever you felt like it?”

 

“ _No_ ,” Sehun says, and he’s yelling now, voice raised and red faced with anger. “You’re more than that- have been since the beginning. I’ve been trying to show you, for _weeks_ now, that you mean more to me than just someone I picked off a website. I could _swear_ you felt the same. I refuse to believe every single time we’ve been together was a lie, hyung, no matter how good you may be at pretending. There are some things _you can’t fake._ ”

 

“Then what do you want from me, Sehun?” Chanyeol asks tiredly, warily, eyes damp but he refuses to give in to the tears. 

 

Silence falls between them, heavy and loaded. Waiting for Sehun to answer feels like being weighed down with lead, anxiety licking all over Chanyeol’s insides. 

 

“Choose me, hyung,” Sehun answers quietly, finally. “One more time - one _last_ time. Choose me, _only_ me. I’ll make it worth your while. I promise you won’t regret it.”

 

“And when you’re done with me?” Chanyeol asks, just as quietly, swiping away a single tear as it threatens to fall. 

 

“I won’t ever be,” Sehun replies, so much conviction Chanyeol almost believes him. “I’ll never get tired of you, hyung.”

 

“You can’t promise me forever, Oh Sehun.” Chanyeol sighs, sinking onto the edge of the bed, head hanging and already so tired of fighting. He feels the mattress dip next to him, Sehun’s weight leaning slowly, tentatively into his side. When Chanyeol doesn’t react violently, Sehun eases them into a hug, loose at first, and then tighter. 

 

“Let me at least try, hyung,” Sehun says, the words muffled into Chanyeol’s shoulder. His lips are soft on Chanyeol’s skin and it’s useless trying to fight off the shiver that goes through him at the contact.

 

Chanyeol feels his resolve crumbling and Sehun has always made it so easy to given in. He nods.

 

“Let’s go to Japan, Sehun-ah.”


End file.
